You can't always count on
The things that you see
The tone of the whisper
What you've come to believe

They'll have you running circles
In the middle of laps
With the soul purpose
Of keeping you where you are at

Could it be slight of hand
Or truth less in demand
Telling you what they want to
Whether you can or you can't

Are all of the answers
Made up on the spot
Giving sideways glances
Amongst bobble head nods

Look over there, not here
Being their specialty
You can't always count on
What they want you to believe